


Belladonna

by ejectingthecore



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ejectingthecore/pseuds/ejectingthecore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the mirror universe, short, explicit. Gaila is the badass captain, and what she demands from her first officer is domination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belladonna

She kneels before him, glittering green and gorgeous. She is a powerful female, a warrior, who walks with deadly presence and absolute control through the blood stained corridors of this ship, her ship. She moves with wicked surety, her boots hard on the dusty plains of planets she uses up, consumes, claims with force. He walks beside her, follows her, always, and yet.

This female turns soft and yearning at his feet.

How this can be true is not at all clear, but does not matter. He sits comfortably, casually on the low couch in his quarters, his uniform jacket, his pants, everything open, but just enough so he can stroke his abdomen and his erection. He does so absently, as though she is not challenging his very will to breathe, as though she is not intoxicating and overwhelming, waiting between his legs. As though her hunger does not deafen and madden him. Her eyes dilating slightly, her breath heavy, she sits back on her heels and waits for him to speak to her. Her pink tongue touches her bottom lip, so wet and ready, it is a struggle for him to remain composed and patient.

He is deadly patient. To please her properly requires it.

He allows one corner of his mouth to curl in what passes for a smile. "You enjoy taking me in your mouth."

It is not a question. He knows this. He knows it like he knows the blood coursing through his body, knows it with the sureness and ease of communing with the mathematical inevitability of everything. He knows it the way he knows his own breath and the wash of tides of spacetime.

He makes her say it anyway. "Yes."

But it is not really what he wants to know.

"Do you enjoy me telling you to do so?"

He senses her surge of adrenaline, watches as her pupils get larger and her breath quickens slightly. These changes might not be explicitly visible to other males. To him, they are as clear as a pure transmission in open space, as obvious as a klaxon. She leans slightly toward him, an almost indiscernible inclination so beautiful it makes his penis spasm in his hand, and he tightens his grip, attempting to hide his own response. Attempting to appear almost disinterested, as if this could ever be true with such a woman on her knees. Even so, he does this. He knows.

"Do you enjoy when I expect a verbal response, such as Yes, Commander, before you may stretch your lips around me?"

Now he feels such waves of arousal, any unthinking beast would notice. She is desperate, her eyes are black with it, her lips parted with the promise of a touch he must not think about, lest he ruin this. And he will not ruin it, not when he could lose her. Not ever. He holds himself steady.

"Yes, Commander."

"Open." And then he opens his hand and offers himself to her.

Her voice has become a harsh whisper. "Yes, Sir."

She rises up on her knees, bends over his lap to take him in her mouth, and he calls upon iron will and unforgiving, punishing years of mental training to keep from crying out. She feels like nothing he can name or imagine, among all the million things he has seen and experienced. Compared to her mouth, the cruel beauty of a predator or the raging silence of a dying star is nothing. At the moment, he would allow her to demand he do absolutely anything, and so he does the one impossible thing she wants. He continues his conversation.

"Do you like when I direct your head as you suck me?" He places his hand gently among her fiery curls. She moans, and the vibration and animal sensuality of her sound drives him to a brink he must not go over. Must not. So he tells her, "You may pause to answer." She pulls away to speak, leaving him wet and throbbing, and he lifts his hand to allow her.

Her eyes rise to meet his when she speaks. "Yes, Commander."

Then she dives to take him again and his torment is fresh and knifelike. He struggles, steadies himself by resting his hand more firmly on the back of her head. He begins to push her down, repeatedly, instinctively, impossibly, though he knows it will increase the agony of his arousal. He knows, though he cannot explicitly feel them through his clothing, that her breasts are heavy, her nipples hard with longing. She is pressing them forward, arching her back, as she moves, causing waves of terrible bliss. He pushes harder with his hand, adds a second hand and forces her, and he feels the back of her throat, feels her choke, and he is flying over a savage ocean, waves lapping at him as he fights for control. She destroys it, making small sounds around him, grunting. It cannot last now. All he can do is thrust one, two more times and violently crush his own shout of pleasure.

In fact, he simply empties himself into her, and tells her, "I am through."

She looks up at him with serene gratitude, his ejaculate on her lips and chin. And then she rises and turns to walk to his room, and he watches her powerful body move like liquid poison. He knows she will go to an onyx box he keeps for her, from which she will remove a silver object. And she will lie back on his bed, open her legs, and press it into her wet warmth, the light catching the silver against the deepest green of her swollen lips. It is torture for him to watch the hard, gleaming object entering where he must not go. Not now. But he does watch, stands at the entry to the room, where she knows he will be. He will take her soon. When he is ready he will come to her and rip the inconsequential toy from her, claim her, turn her over and take her like a wild le-matya, and then he will cry out in the final, senseless moment of his achievement.

With her luscious ass in his hands and her face pressed hard into the covers, shaking with the force of his animal thrusts, she makes him hers, always.

*

fin


End file.
